


Fifty Shades of Grain

by missmallorymarie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Delayed Orgasm, F/M, Gen, I'm Sorry, Other, Porn Logic, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, bagel misuse?, bagels can be used as cockrings right?, cream cheese as lube, get Peter B. Parker a fleshlight 2k19, i'll be real with ya'll, improper cream cheese usage, no y/n, there is straight up bagel fucking, very strategic porn setup, you get to suck off your hot dad bod neighbor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmallorymarie/pseuds/missmallorymarie
Summary: Peter's love of carbs goes a little too far when he finds himself alone in his apartment one morning, fantasizing about his cute neighbor and not having anything better to satisfy his cravings than the bagel from the coffee shop.Whilst getting jiggy with this bagel, Peter manages to find himself in a little bit of a predicament only said neighbor can help him get out of.





	Fifty Shades of Grain

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second most cursed thing I've ever written and I'm so sorry.  
> Big I'm sorry/you're welcome to @biolotea/@voltronshorts for being the first pair of eyes on this.

As Peter sat there alone on his couch, he pondered how he’d gotten himself into this particular predicament. What possessed him to run with this absolutely ridiculous idea in the first place? And how exactly was he going to get out of it?

 _Why the hell did I think this was a good plan?_ he thought to himself.

To break it into its simplest elements, it had all stemmed from two things: breakfast, and boredom.

Perhaps due to the early hour and lack of food, he was experiencing a lapse in judgement then. He’d managed to roll his ass out of bed, and by some miracle, had thrown together a semi-cohesive outfit for a quick run down to the coffee shop to pick up something to eat. After all he’d been dealing with lately, he considered being awake, relatively alert, and clothed to be a win for the day.

He shoved his apartment key and a crisp five dollar bill into his coat pocket and made his way down to the corner coffee house. New York was always bustling, and he never fully got to experience the 7am sidewalk traffic. He couldn’t say he was a fan, but at least no one was getting in his face. Peter was more than aware of how grumpy he was capable of looking, especially after a late night and early morning.

The shop was small and crawling with the early morning hipster crowd, eager to take pictures of their latte art to post on their social media. He felt like the odd man out, surprising the cashier every time with his ordering one basic large dark roast and a bagel some sort. What could he say? He liked it plain and simple. Which was more than he could say for the store’s bagel selection, it seemed. He wondered what happened to your run-of-the-mill assortment of plain, cinnamon raisin, asiago cheese, poppy seed, or an everything bagel? Now there was before him an array of rainbow colored breads with sprinkles that looked more like donuts than a breakfast food. Not that he wasn’t a man who could appreciate a good donut, but he was on a mission.

He wondered why these hipster baked goods cost so much extra, and why people were willing to shell out the extra cash for them. Part of him worried that his five dollars wouldn’t be enough to cover it. He spotted a basic plain bagel in the display case, picking it out and bringing his total to $4.00 even.

“Our toaster isn’t working right now, sir. Do you still want the bagel?” the cashier asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Lemme get some cream cheese with it, too, please.”

The other of the establishment’s patrons watched in awe as he was in and out, order in hand, in less than five minutes. It seemed being a “basic bitch”, as the kids would say, had its perks. Some twenty-something in a floppy beanie and obviously non-prescription glasses gave Peter a death glare as he walked out. Peter couldn’t help but smirk, just a little. It was the least he could do to satisfy his inner child that was telling him to stick his tongue out at the hipster.

Despite his coffee being piping hot, he tried to take a couple sips as he walked back to his building, burning his tongue in the process. It was not the worst of choices he’d make that morning.

Peter unlocked the door and entered his home. He was met with a faint, stale odor he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was certainly present. He made a mental note to buy an air freshener of some sort, especially if he was ever going to have any guests over.

He grunted as he sank into the sofa cushions, kicking his shoes off and putting his heels up on the table. The sun was still low in the sky, and he sat in the shadowed corner by himself, trying not to dwell on the circumstances that had led to this very moment.

He hated to admit it, to admit feeling weak, but he felt so alone. It was crazy to think that he could feel that way in a city full of millions upon millions of people, each with their own unique stories and lives. New faces were everywhere, some friendlier than others. New York was all he’d ever known, and he’d committed to it full-time, protecting it and its inhabitants from the evils that may try to wreak havoc upon it. Things were going great in his late 20s and early 30s. Things crumbled for him when he faced his first major injury on the job and was never able to feel like he fully bounced back. Then from there, he lost the last of his family, the love of his life had left him, and he’d been in this dumpster of an apartment ever since.

He sighed and took a swig of his coffee, no longer scalding hot. Peter knew he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and being almost 40 and back on the market wasn’t an ideal situation to be in. He didn’t think he needed nor wanted another serious partner right now anyway. His life was a mess. He couldn’t drag someone into that. He couldn’t put someone in the same position he’d ended up putting MJ in. He could admit to himself, however, that there were aspects of a relationship that he…missed.

Fortunately the neighbor girl seemed to be into what he had to offer. She didn’t seem too interested in getting married or being seriously involved. He felt inadequate at times, unable to match her stamina or keep up with her higher sex drive. But god, she was a blessing on the cold nights where he longed for a soft body pressed against his and fingers tangled in his hair.

His throat drying at the thought, he chugged down the rest of his drink and set the empty cup on the table, and went for the bagel. He noticed that all the naughty thoughts about his neighbor had not gone without taking effect on him, his cock just barely hardening in his sweatpants. _Damn it_ , he thought. He fished for his phone to check the time.

7:30am.

 _Far earlier than she’s likely to be awake on a Friday morning,_ he thought, disappointed but determined to make do.

Leaning back into the cushion, Peter began palming his growing erection through the fabric of his sweats, welcoming the friction with a hum. He continued on like this for a few strokes, giving himself a light squeeze before tugging down the elastic waistband of his pants and freeing his dick to the cool air.

He took his cock in his hand, giving it a few pumps to bring it to fully stand at attention. He spit into his palm and began lathering himself in the makeshift lubricant. He thumbed over the head of his dick, a bead of precum already forming. Slowly he dragged down his shaft, gently squeezing at the base. As he closed his eyes, he imagined his neighbor, bracing herself on his shoulders as she rode the life out of him. He timed his strokes to match the pace she set in his mind, slow and steady at first with each roll of her hips, and then more vigorously as he began snapping his hips in time with his hand.

He thought he could finish like this, but he needed something more. His hand simply wasn’t enough. He snapped out of his daydream long enough to look around for something, anything that would suffice. Stacks of boxes cluttered the otherwise-bare room. TV, remote, and a stray piece of trash here and there. _Hmm_.

 Peter’s gaze then fell on the bagel beside him. He paused, staring at it for a minute. Was it crazy? Possibly. Was he an adult who was going to make his own poor life choices regardless? Absolutely. He took the baked treat from its package, eyeballing the hole to gauge it size-wise. It seemed to be just barely big enough to fit his girth, maybe just a little snug.

Good thing there was that cream cheese to go with it. Without hesitation, Peter tore the package of cream cheese open, picked up a dollop on his two fingers, and spread it around the inner rim of the bagel. He brought the bagel down, lining it up with the swollen pink tip of his cock, only slightly recoiling at the coldness of the cream cheese. He slid in with ease, at least for the first couple inches of his length. No matter, he could work up to more. The cream cheese added texture to the smoothness of the plain bagel, and Peter once again closed his eyes and got lost in his thoughts.

Faster and faster he worked, and eventually the bagel hole stretched to accommodate the wider base of his dick, much as he’d hoped and anticipated. He thrust into the bagel harder each time, until he thrust once too hard. He thought it to be a pleasant squeeze at the base of his shaft, until he went to pull it upwards. It wouldn’t budge.

“ _Shit_ ,” he groaned, attempting again to remove the bagel from his cock. No luck. It seemed while he had a plethora of spider-sense, he did not necessarily have common sense.

And now here he was, his throbbing erection lodged in a bagel he’d intended to have for breakfast. Its hold on him was tight – not enough to cut off circulation, but more than enough to sustain his hardness and prevent him from being able to come.

Peter contemplated his options. He _could_ go to the urgent care facility, but he really didn’t want to try to transport this, or explain it. He _could_ try to get one of the butter knives and try to cut it off, but was it worth the risk?

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Pete?” you called.

His heart and his dick leapt at the sound of your voice. Just who he’d wanted to see, though admittedly different circumstances would be preferable.

“I-I’m here! Don’t, uh, don’t come in,” he said, scrambling for a blanket, or _anything_ to hide his shameful dilemma.

“Pete, is everything okay in there?” You could tell something was off from the crack in his voice. He usually spoke in a comfortable and casual demeanor, and his unsteadiness worried you. You noticed the door was unlocked, and out of your concern, you went ahead and let yourself in.

There you saw him seated in the couch, his back turned to you. He wouldn’t even look in your direction to greet you. How could he? It would only take you a few steps in his direction for you to notice anyway.

“Peter…?” you said, approaching him with caution.

He turned his head away with every step closer you took.

“H-hey there…” he said as you reached the back of the couch directly behind him.

You snorted as soon as you realized just what he had been trying to prevent you from seeing. You never thought you’d see a grown man blush quite as hard as he did upon your outburst.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, do you…do you have a goddamn bagel stuck on your dick?”

He nodded shamefully.

“Is that cream cheese on it too?” you asked, walking around the front of the sofa to face him.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, still unable to look you in the eye.

You chuckled. If this was the sort of utter bullshit that happened this early, maybe you should get up in the morning more often.

“Well, I, uh, would say you got yourself into a pickle there, but that’s not exactly right, is it?” you said as you folded your arms.

“Alright, go on, make your jokes. Get it out of your system,” he resigned, finally looking at you.

“Oh, gladly. It’s a good thing I like you, or your reputation would be _toast_ right about now.”

You swore the corner of his mouth twitched. He hated to admit it to himself, but that one was kind of sweet.

“ _Donut_ worry, that’s nearly a complete look. Just gotta get you a pair of _loafers_.” You shot him a cheesy grin and the ol’ finger guns. He sat there and took it.

“You done?”

“Mm, I think so. I have to say though,” you began, resting your palms on his thighs as you leaned in, inching closer to his face, “this is absolutely the best thing since sliced bread.”

Peter looked at you with eyes imploring you to stop and fighting a smile, lest he encourage you and your bad bread puns.

“Alright, alright. _Now_ I’m done.” You brought a hand up to cup his scruffy jaw, closing the distance between your lips. Hungrily he worked his lips against yours, a plea for help in freeing him from his peculiar confines. You broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his as your other hand began stroking his cock.

His breath hitched as you rubbed him. “That’s not exactly – _fuck_ – what I had in mind,” he strained, his words betrayed by his hips bucking into your hand.

“You didn’t specify how you wanted help. We’re doing this my way,” you teased, giving him one more peck on the lips before dropping to the floor in front of him. He spread his legs for you to kneel before him, watching you with desperation in his eyes. He was painfully hard and beyond eager for release. Toying with him, you pecked soft kissed along the underside of his shaft before taking his swollen head into your mouth, licking away any of the residual cream cheese. You released him with a _pop_ , proceeding to tease him with your tongue, just barely grazing along his length. Peter whined and his cock twitched, overly sensitive from the limited blood flow. He was entirely at your mercy, and you kind of liked the sound of that.

You pressed your tongue flat against him, dragging against him slowly, and taking him whole into your mouth upon reaching his tip. Well, you took as much as you could until the bagel got in the way. You hummed against him, and he threw his head back and moaned in response. Pete reached for your head, tangling his fingers in your messy morning hair. Encouraging as it was, you weren’t going to be rushed in this. You fought against his attempt at fucking into your mouth, punishing him for getting ahead of you by taking your time with the first few bobs of your head before you let him guide you. You hollowed your cheeks and let him take the reins from you. As he fucked your mouth, he wondered why he didn’t just text you in the first place. This was infinitely superior to any bagel. It could have been a crisis easily averted.

Peter’s cock ached. He longed for his release after more than his fair share of building up to it, but there was still the matter of the bagel stuck around the base of his shaft. You could tell he was close. When he let go of your hair, you pulled off him and did the logical thing – you sank your teeth into the bagel, tearing away at it bite by bite. It wasn’t the breakfast you expected to have that morning, but hey, still not the weirdest thing to happen to you in the time you’d known Peter.

At last, you had eaten through enough of the bagel to pull it off and toss it aside. Pete gasped, feeling free at last. Quickly you reassumed your position, driving him into a frenzy as you were now finally able to deepthroat his length. His grip on the back of your head returned, and within mere moments, he was crying out, holding you in place as he filled your throat.

Maybe it was a bigger load than you were used to from him, or maybe it had just been a while, but it sure seemed like he came a _lot_. He looked down at you through half-lidded eyes, releasing his hold on you. You pulled off him, opening wide to show him the damage he’d done before gulping it down.

Pete watched as you smiled proudly and rose to your feet, kicking the remains of the bagel aside. He fumbled for a napkin and got rid of any lingering cream cheese residue before tucking himself back into his sweats. He’d shower in a bit anyway.

You sat down beside him on the sofa, taking his arm and draping it around you. He took the hint and pulled you close.

“So, uh, I feel like there’s a story here,” you said, resting a hand against his torso.

“...A little bit, yeah.”

“Gonna tell me?”

“Nope.”

You snorted, leaning into him with a yawn.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Hm?”

“So, there’s this thing called a fleshlight…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not all that sorry, actually.  
> I will write some proper smut soon. I just...I had a shitpost idea...and I ran with it.  
> This is my final work of 2018. I cannot believe this bullshit is now in my repertoire.
> 
> Anyway find me on Twitter at @MalloryAgain and on my Tumblr writing blog @nebulous-library


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